


Just as the Tides Flow

by TheOtherSarahJane



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherSarahJane/pseuds/TheOtherSarahJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Formerly titled "Watch the Tides, My Love.") Japan and Greece might seem an odd match to other nations, but they have more in common--and more to share--than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just as the Tides Flow

**Author's Note:**

> An exercise in writing stuff that sounds pretty + Why I Ship Giripan 101.

Heracles was the beauty of the rolling sea.

He was the calm waves lapping at the soft sand on a gentle day, resting his head on Kiku’s delicate shoulder. He was the mellow warmth of the sun above, his body lying against Kiku’s, slowly thawing the cool layer of reserve and dignity and propriety that pushed Kiku away from others. He was every breath of fresh, salty air that breezed in from the Mediterranean as he sighed against Kiku’s cheek, and he was the simple pleasure of sitting and watching the tide come in with one held dear.

They loved to watch the sea together. Their lands were intimately familiar with the oceans, and on summer days they would sometimes stay till evening, sharing the oldest stories of their people when they spoke and the simple joy of trust and good company when they did not.

Other nations would sometimes look on in bewilderment when the two left meetings together, wondering, why Greece? How could someone so different, so uninhibited, be the one to lift the concrete barriers of formality and honor guarding Japan? How could a nation with so little shared history be one who seemed to understand him so well, even when the two seldom exchanged words?

Kiku knew that the answer lay in simple moments like these, when they would sit in the sand and watch the rhythm of the tides. For a being centuries old—having seen nations risen and fallen, alliances formed and broken, wars and invasions and bloodshed and horrors committed time and time again, whose every waking moment was filled with the babbling voices of their people and the forceful ploys of their leaders, pulling every which way like marionette strings too tightly secured—simplicity was a blessing. There was little history to deepen their bond, but there was little to break it, either. Their differences may have been many, but Heracles was gentle with them, as comfortable with formality and distance as he was with intimacy and intensity. He was there to draw Kiku out of his dispassionate carapace when the weight of tact and discretion became too great, but also there to retreat like the tides until Kiku needed him again—and then, he would be there, rushing back in, perfectly in tune.

What they had was not faithful in the human sense—Heracles was a free and constant lover, and Kiku never batted an eye at an occasional human tryst when he could not be there. But it was faithful in that they never left each other for good. They would go their separate ways for a time, receding back to their corners of the Earth, sometimes for days, sometimes for years, but would always reunite, just as if they had never parted.

And this was why, when Heracles transformed from the meek rolling of the tides to the raging passion of a tsunami, Kiku accepted him. This was why, when the waters rose and his gentle eyes darkened with anger and frustration, Kiku let the storms blow and rage and whirl until the howling winds died and the frothy mass turned again to peaceful, glassy ripples.

And then his Heracles would return to him, his Heracles who was the rolling sea and the mellow sun and the salty air, and Kiku would lie with him as he did with the ocean, wrapped in his arms and enveloped in his size and surrendering, more and more, with every touch.


End file.
